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The Journal of David Lerrington
Entry 1, February 8, 2011 Hello. My name is David Lerrington. Something is watching me. I have noticed it for a while. A figure, a man, dressed all in black, and a hood over his face. He never gets close to me, and I only see him for about half a second. He’s trying to avoid me seeing him. I don’t know what he wants. I just want him to go away. Entry 2, March 12, 2011 I have seen him 4 times in the past month. I know something is wrong. He is frightening, but I haven’t called the authorities yet. I know they wouldn’t believe me, so I’m stuck with him until I have proof. Entry 3, March 29, 2011 He has been getting closer to me lately, and I’m starting to get worried. He appears to hold some sort of weapon at all times. It is long and sharp, and a bright white color. Entry 4, April 18, 2011 My wife is dead. He killed her. I woke up, and he was stroking her dead body. He saw me, and disappeared when I blinked. She is dead. The authorities say she died of a heart attack, but I know better. She was murdered. Entry 5, April 20, 2011 Today marks the first time I have seen him twice in one day. I went into the forest with a hunting rifle and tried to spot him. I saw him appear and disappear twice there. I swear I will find him. And I will kill him. Entry 6, April 27, 2011 He almost got me today. I don’t know how I survived. I was in my home, and he appeared in my kitchen. Before I could open my mouth, he drove the blade straight into my brain. I woke up in the hospital, and was greeted by my kids. They told me I had a stroke. A stroke! And no blood or cuts on my head. I don’t know how he did what he did, but I’ll find out. Entry 7, May 3, 2011 I can’t take it anymore. Today I went to the authorities, and told them what happened. They wouldn’t help me. They just kept saying I was crazy. I lost control and just... started screaming. And now, I’m sitting here in a crappy room with nothing but a lousy bed and a worker who brings me food every day. Entry 8, May 15, 2011 He was at the foot of my bed this morning, weapon ready. I shooed him off and told the worker what happened. I am tired of this place. There isn’t enough space. They think I’m crazy. I’m not. I’m going to die in this room and there’s nothing I can do. That was found on the body of my father, David Larrington. He die peacefully in his sleep at the age of 87, on May 18, 2011. I, John Lerrington, am now more afraid than ever. Death is real. And he will come for all of us one day, and we will see him for ourselves. He drove his scythe into my father’s brain, and he had a stroke. He drove his scythe into my mother’s heart, and she died of a heart attack. My father was no senile old man. Category:Diary/Journal Category:Reality